


Itisnotyourfault

by thefilmmakerandsongwriter



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-07
Updated: 2013-06-07
Packaged: 2017-12-14 05:00:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/833035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefilmmakerandsongwriter/pseuds/thefilmmakerandsongwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have teenage Kirk feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Itisnotyourfault

The taste of _itisnotyourfaultitisnotyourfault_ scraped against your palms every time he pushed you down, the grip of the cracked linoleum floor digging into abraded skin, you acquired a taste for the solid. Intangibility was your mother, off-planet on a mission, or your brother, always present but never entirely there. You grew to count on the blood and bruises blossoming on your knuckles, taking it as hard evidence that you were still here, even as glances bounced off you like sunlight and tinted glass.  _Itisnotyourfault_  rang through your swollen ears even as his abrasive voice drowned your nerve endings in burning ice. _Itisnotyourfault_ sent goosebumps up and down your arms even as you rolled out of the  gorgeous, wrecked vintage corvette, wanting to see the shiny red mental as twisted and bent as you were. _Itisnotyourfault_  scorched your bloodstream even as he turned your limbs as pliable as car parts- and you felt more broken down than you ever had before, wishing someone would sell your spare limbs for scraps; you didn’t want this body anymore.  A body that was good for fucking and fighting, a perpetual motion machine, deluding yourself into thinking you were going somewhere. You continued tumbling long after the vehicle smashed against the rocks. You continued yelling long after everyone left, and your throat reverberated with the emtpiness of the one-stop light town. You contined like a cannonball, colliding into cosmos too big for you too handle. A bloody nose here, a broken arm there, and it wasn't until after everyone else had gone, and you were the last one at the bar downing your fifth scotch that something in you slammed hard on the brakes, and you spiraled to a stop, spinning out hopelessly because there was no one left to blame but yourself. 


End file.
